


Lost

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: Another Space and Time (Star Wars fics) [25]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Post-Battle of Geonosis, Qui-Gon's poncho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:25:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: After the first battle of Geonosis.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> From the music meme, which says: put your music player on shuffle, write until a song ends, then switch to a new story and repeat. 
> 
> I've been having a lot of "meh" when it comes to getting words on screen, so I needed the exercise.

* * *

 

_And so they say lord for everything a reason  
for every ending a new beginning _

"For Everything A Reason," - Carina Round

 

* * *

  


The Jedi return from Geonosis with a quiet and somber resolve. The clone troopers are being dispatched to Coruscant from Kamino, even as the Council deliberates on the idea of Jedi leading the Republic’s grand army.

It is not a question Obi-Wan would have ever thought they would need to contemplate.

He makes a break for his quarters as soon as he is granted leave, sheds his soiled clothes just inside his bedroom, places his lightsaber in its home on the table by the bed and heads for the shower. He turns on the water feature, as hot as it will go, and washes the sweat and dirt and down the drain.

Afterward, he dresses in soft pants and pads to his closet, pulling out the trunk he keeps tucked away in the back. He digs inside it, past the memories of his life to this point, grasps the rough grey cloth folded at the bottom and takes it to bed with him. He sits propped against the wall with the old poncho draped around him. It looks the same as it did when his master wore it on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan fingers the crooked seams, the frays at the edges, and curls into the depth of it as he stares out the window at the traffic and the orange sunset, mentally cataloging the gains and losses over the last handful of days.

A senator saved from assassination. A padawan—soon to be former padawan—recovering from the loss of his arm in the healer’s wing. M’tau, Kylira, and countless other Jedi dead on Geonosis. The master of his master, fallen. And the master of the Sith he’d killed so long ago weaving his control over the Senate, if Dooku were to be believed.

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to believe. As he watches day bleed into night, he finds himself more lost and confused than he had been since he was a failed initiate taking a flight away from the Temple and all that he’d ever known.

Over the last 10 years, there have been moments when he wished he could talk to his master.

In this moment, he wishes his master could hold him.


End file.
